Beyond the Bounds of Possibility
by casthatsgay
Summary: Will has broken out of Baltimore with just one thing on his mind: revenge. He goes straight to Lecter's house, determined to make him pay for all the wrong he has done, but Hannibal is smarter than Will imagines... and he's waiting for him. Contains: graphic scenes of violence, non-con/rape
1. Chapter 1

The night air was cool and still as Will Graham pressed his back against the wall to the left of Hannibal Lecter's front door. His heart pounded in his ears, a steady rhythm that pulsed in time with the spikes of his mounting fear and anticipation. He was dressed in the blue overalls that were required to be worn by all inmates of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The deep shade of navy blue that screamed his insanity to anyone who cared to take a second glance.

The overalls hid his emaciated body. He hadn't eaten for days, not since his jail break, and not much before then at that. He'd been off his food, driven sick with hatred and fear, both towards one individual. The individual who's house he now skulked in the deep shadows of, with one thought in mind. Revenge.

He despised Lecter with every scrap of his being. The very thought of him made his skin crawl, made his stomach twist like the blade of one of Lecter's vicious knives were slowly probing through his innards. Fear washed over Will in icy waves, and he knew that if it wasn't for the semi-automatic pistol clasped between his trembling fingers he would be running, running far away from here and not stopping until he'd put ten states between him and the cannibalistic psychopath that lay behind those grand oak doors.

But he couldn't run. Will knew that. He had to kill Lecter, if not for the unspeakable wrongs that the twisted individual had done to him, then for the extensive list of others that were victims of Hannibal Lecter. For every life he had taken, for every life he was going to take. Will didn't want to make him suffer. He wasn't cruel. And besides, Lecter wasn't worthy of the effort.

It was Will's responsibility to destroy Lecter. Destroy him before he could claim any more innocent flesh like cattle. No one would ever believe him, no one would ever see Lecter for the monster he really was. Will was doomed anyway. He would never get out of Baltimore, his life had already been discarded in amongst the dumping ground of tortured minds, there was no hope of freedom on the horizon for him, but before he gave him self up, allowed his mind to rot into irreparable dysfunction, Will was going to make one last stand. One last victory. One last save; saving innumerable lives with a single bullet.

Taking a deep breath, Will stepped out of the shadows hugging the wall, crossed silently to the door, and began picking the lock with hands that were suddenly as still as the oppressive night air.

Hannibal smirked. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, he stood stock still and silent, savouring the overpowering odour of fear that was pungent to Hannibal, even with bricks and mortar standing between the two men. He tipped his head back slightly, allowing his eyes to roll back under his heavy, hooded eyelids. The essence of Will was so strong, it surrounded him, drove him ravenous with desire. He was breathing him in, sucking his very essence in out of his lungs, but it wasn't enough.

A small shudder snaked it's way down Hannibal's spine at the thought of just touching Will. He imagined sinking his teeth into him, pushing roughly inside the wreck of man, breaking him down until there was nothing left, then reshaping him into and whole new being. A being who answered solely to Hannibal. Someone who knew his place. Hannibal's breath hitched in excitement, but before he could allow himself to become thoroughly absorbed in his fantasy, he felt, rather than heard, the soft vibrations of footsteps moving across his veranda.

A smile broke slowly out across his chiselled features, that darked with anticipation as he heard the familiar click and scrape of a lock pick at the keyhole. Smirking, he turned and stalked down the corridor with the stealth of a jungle cat, his shoeless feet making the barest whisper against the plush carpet. He stepped into the kitchen that lay at the end of the short hallway corridor, sinking into invisibility among the pitch black shadows, he turned, and he waited: ready to strike.

The door made a soft click as the lock sprang open, a slit of bright light from the hallway spilling out onto the veranda. Gently, Will nudged the door open letting it swing forward gently, stopping a few inches short of the inner wall. He steeled himself, before stepping forward on numb legs, his pistol grasped between white knuckles, held once more on level with eyes and now aimed and levelled straight ahead of him.

His legs felt as though they belonged to someone else as they carried him forward, painfully slowly down the brightly lit corridor. At the end there was a pitch-black doorway that Will knew to open out into the kitchen, and slightly ahead another doorway off to the left. The door was closed, but there was a chink of light shining out across the carpet, and the sound of a delicate symphony reached him, probably being played from Lecter's exquisite -.

Will's instincts took over, his FBI training rising to the surface of his autopilot. He slid sideways along the wall, his back never leaving the elegant wallpaper. Reaching the doorway, he hesitated for one brief second, before reaching down to the door knob and flinging the door open.

He surged in, his gun moving rapidly from side to side, the lethal barrel scouring every inch of the room.

But the room was empty.

Will swore silently at himself, berating himself with the most vile words his mind could conjure.

Oh, he'd done it now. He was fucked. Bursting into that room, crashing through the door and making enough noise to rouse the entire house. Fuck. FUCK.

His breath was low and staggered as he slowly turned and stepped out of the room, his instincts screaming at him to turn and run; the element of surprise was gone. He should go. Get out whilst he still could. Lecter was a better fighter than him, stronger and faster, and if Lecter got the jump on him... He wouldn't stand a chance.

Will shuddered at the thought of what the psychopath might do to him, then quickly pushed the thought from his mind. He knew he still had to go on, he had to finish this. Thoughts like that wouldn't get him anywhere.

He began edging himself down the corridor, towards the kitchen entrance. The door hung wide open, but all that lay beyond was deep shadows.

Taking shallow breaths, Will edged towards the darkness. He stopped at the edge, were the light met the dark, the relative safety faded into indisputable fear and chaos.

Biting his lip, Will took one last furtive glance around, before stepping into the black.

Hannibal tried and failed to wipe the smirk from his face as Will blundered into the living room, a whirlwind of commotion and self induced panic. There had been no need to leave the record player on, other than to bask in Will's fear. He was going to have the quivering wreck of a man with or without any tricks.

He knew the second Will realised his mistake, the fresh wave of fear reaching all the way to the kitchen.

Hannibal could hear him now. Hear his quick, barely-under-control breaths slicing through the serenity of the house. His shaky footsteps began to edge towards the kitchen. A warm rush of pleasure surged through him. This was it... he was so close.

Silently, he moved back until his back was firmly pressed against the counter, knowing Will would walk straight by him in the pitch-dark. He held his breath, fingers itching to close around the younger man's slender throat.

Will stepped into the kitchen.

He edged forward into the darkness, painfully aware of the sound of his warn, old shoes against the beautiful stone tiles. Will knew he should have taken them off, but it was too late now. He couldn't afford to let his guard down for a second.

He took another tentative step, recalling his mental map of Hannibal's kitchen. He'd only visited this house a select few times, and for the longest stay he'd been having a minor seizure, so his knowledge of the layout was somewhat limited.

However, his mind was still functional enough to recall that he was currently standing in a fairly large gap between a beautiful oak dining table off to the left, and a large floating island work surface to his right. The room was huge, he estimated the gap between the table and the worktop to be about six metres, but he couldn't know for sure in his current state of complete blindness.

He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust. After a minute or so, he could just about make out the blurry silhouette of the table. It was next the tall, floor to ceiling patio doors, and though they were obscured by heavy drapes, the barest suggestion of moonlight filtered through to give the objects at that end of the room a slight shape.

The kitchen end, however, was still heavily shadowed, all the contours of that side lay blind to him.

Will knew there to be a door on the other side of the room that led off onto another corridor, and decided to make for that.  
He took a cautious step forward. Then stopped.

For some reason that he couldn't quite put his finger on, the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Sweat broke out across his temple and his fear spiked. His breath caught in his throat.

Will's fingers clenched around the gun. He counted to three in his head.

One.

He steeled himself.

Two.

He braced, ready to turn and fire.

THREE!

Will whirled, levelling the gun right on eye level, and a lean figure barrelled into him from out of the darkness like a wrecking ball.

He crashed to the floor, the full weight of the figure, Lecter, falling on him and pinning him to the floor. Will panicked, he raised the gun and directed it in the general direction of his assailant, too panic-stricken to aim. The bullet whizzed by Lecter's ear, and the deafening roar from the pistol sent Will reeling.

Lecter grunted furiously, catching Will with a vicious right hook across the jaw whilst simultaneously pinning his right arm to the floor with his left. Lecter leant onto Will's wrist with a crushing weight, causing his hand to spring open.

He heard the gun go skittering across the floor.

Will kicked and thrashed, shear terror drenching his body in ice cold sweat. Lecter punched again, and again, this time in the cheek, mouth, temple.

This failing to put and end to Will's blind struggles, Hannibal moved down to Will's slender neck, his large hand wrapping easily around his throat, cutting off his blood and oxygen, causing him to choke.

Using his free left hand, Will reached up to Lecter's head and scrambled desperately to find some purchase. He punched feebly, the combination of using his weaker arm and his awkward angle giving him no real hope of causing damage. He scratched and clawed at Lecter's scalp, twisted his fingers into his hair, trying desperately to pull him off.

His consciousness quickly fading, Will let go of Lecter's hair and instead brought his hand to the psychopath's face.

He drew his hand back and slammed the heel of his hand into the bridge of Lecter's nose.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Lecter's blood spilled out, flowing freely over his hand and Will's neck and face.

The vague shapes that Will could make out were fading fast, total blackness creeping in around the edges of his limited vision. He tried for a fourth strike. He drew his arm back, it wobbled precariously, then fell back to the floor with a soft thump.

His eye's rolled back into his head, his mouth falling open slightly as unconsciousness consumed him. The last thing he saw was Lecter leaning down over him so that their faces were a mere inch away from each other, his cruel smirk filling Will's vision. Then blackness consumed him.

Hannibal sat back triumphantly, settling on Will's prominent hips. Will's head was tilted back, barring his already bruised neck beautifully.

His lips were parted slightly, and Hannibal couldn't help himself. He leant forward, laying his lanky body out over Will's delicate chest. He had to arch his back slightly in order to press his lips gently to Will's. He brought a hand up and tenderly traced the puffy bruises forming under the beautiful man's eyes, drinking in the tastes that were layered over his angel's ever-so-slightly swollen lips.

He withdrew, and gently ran his tongue along a still bleeding cut on Will's lower lip, washing the taste around his mouth as though it were a fine wine.

Oh how he would have loved to have taken Will right then and there. He looked so beautiful... so innocent, and so pitiful, sprawled unconscious beneath him.

Hannibal purged the thoughts, chastising himself. Good things come to those who wait.

So many good things, he smiled to himself.

Sighing, he swung his legs off of Will, rose, then stooped to pick up his lifeless form. He swung the unconscious man effortlessly over his shoulder, pausing briefly to reflect on how skinny he had become.

He imagined all the things he's was going to do to Will as he carried him down to the basement, and he couldn't keep the smile off of his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Will's eyes fluttered open. He gazed straight ahead of him, unable to move his head for a while, until the heavy veil of semi-consciousness was lifted. Gradually he began to move his eyes around the room, examining his surroundings. He was in a large room with walls, ceiling and floor made of dull, grey concrete, illuminated by a single bulb suspended from the high ceiling.

There was a heavy wooden door on the far side of the room, and even if Will could have reached it, he was sure he would find it to be firmly locked. He was lying face down on a bare, filthy mattress in the far left corner of the cell. He had been stripped down to his grey t-shirt and white boxers, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed, and there was a heavy, metal shackle around his right wrist with a short length of thick chain attached, that was in turn attached to a large metal loop on the wall at the head end of the mattress.

Will groaned and sat up, shifting backwards to lean his back against the wall. Sitting like this, he had just enough length in the chain to stretch his arm out straight. His stomach lurched with the sudden wave of fear, the realisation of the horror of his situation. He dry retched, his empty stomach offering nothing to purge.

Taking deep, steadying breaths, Will tried to clear his mind. He brought his bony knees up to his chest, hugging himself tightly and trembling uncontrollably. He wanted to fold away into himself, collapse into nothing. There was no escaping from this grey prison, he knew that without even bothering to mull it over.

Lecter was too efficient. He was an expert in the art of maiming and torturing humans, there was no way he would ever let one of his precious prey escape. The dubious red-brown stains on the mattress, that Will was so carefully avoiding looking at, told him all he needed to know about what happened to the people who ended up chained to this wall. And as if he needed any hints. The fact that he was still alive made it clear that Lecter had something far worse than death in mind.

Will was roused from the dark recesses of his panic-stricken mind by the sound of a heavy door opening, somewhere near by, but somehow far away. Seconds later: descending footsteps. Someone walking down stairs. Slow, calm, in no hurry.

Will's breathing became fast and shallow as the footsteps approached and finally stopped outside the door. Several jarring screeches of metal-on-metal, then the door swung slowly open, revealing Lecter standing calmly in the doorway.

"Hello Will." His voice was conversational, almost warm, laced with an edge of excitement.

There was a dark bruise blossoming across the bridge of his nose, darkening the skin under his eyes. All the blood had been cleaned from his face, but he had not bothered to change his shirt, the white lapels stained red with Hannibal's blood, and probably a little of Will's too.

"You came to quickly. I thought perhaps that I had done more damage than I meant to... at this point." Hannibal's eyes did not leave Will's face as he spoke, causing Will to shift his gaze erratically this way and that, the idea of making eye contact with the man before him making the muscles in his chest constrict.  
Hannibal let his eyes rove over the stricken man curled up on the filthy mattress for a second, before crossing the room and crouching before Will. In a burst of fear at their proximity Will curled even tighter into himself, surging backwards into the very far corner and pressing his skinny back flat against the wall, wanting to put as much space as he possibly could between him and the vicious psychopath that squatted before him.

Hannibal cocked his head, a look of dark amusement twisting his handsome features.

"I can smell your fear, Will. It's delectable." He reached forward with a broad, rough hand and stroked Will's cheek gently, almost curiously.

Will turned his face away, disgust mingling with the fear and hurt that was written all over his features.

Hannibal's soft expression turned to one of anger at this show of defiance. He lunged forward and grabbed Will's jaw in a vice like grip, snapping his head around to face him. He leant in so that their faces were just inches apart, relishing the sweet scent of Will's panicked breath on his nose and lips.

"I need you to understand something, Will. I am your master now. You are my slave. You are alive because I allow you to be. I could have choked the life out of you. I could be carving you up right now. I'd make your flesh into a stew. There's not enough meat on those bones to make anything better. But your organs..." Hannibal leant in, brushing his lips and nose over Will's neck, causing him to squirm uncomfortably. He inhaled deeply, then sat back again, looking at Will critically. "You take good care of yourself, don't you Will? Or at least you did, before this apparent hunger strike. Never smoked, not a big drinker, regular exercise and a low-fat, organic diet, if I'm not mistaken? You would be just delightful, my dear William."

He let go of Will's jaw, and trailed a hand down his bruised neck and across his shoulder, before withdrawing his hand and clasping them both in his lap.

Will stared fixedly at the ground by Lecter's feet, refusing to meet his stare.

"So why am I alive?" His voice was low and quiet, made rough by his bruised throat. His voice portrayed fear and anger in equal bounds.

Hannibal stared at him for a few long seconds before responding.

"You are alive because you are beautiful, and because you fascinate me. Most people are no more than pathetic slabs of meat to me. There are ones that I tolerate... that I keep around because they are vaguely more interesting than all the other livestock that passes my door, petty problems always on the tips of their tongues; they're so needy. But you, Will... you're different. You don't think like them. You don't think like anyone. And you're so fiercely independent. You shy away from every touch. But I'm going to change that. I'm going to make you needy. I'm going to break you, Will. I'm going to destroy you."

Hannibal hesitated for a moment, considering, then seemed to make up his mind.

He reached out and grabbed Will by his ankles, tugged them out from under him and dragged him kicking and screaming across the mattress. He twisted his fingers savagely into Will's shaggy curls, forcing the terrified man up onto his knees them slamming his back against the wall. He leaned into him, one forearm pinning him across his chest, the fingers of the other still tangled in his curls.

"You're going to prove your obedience to me." Hannibal hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes alight with monstrous anticipation and lust.

"F-fuck you." Will hissed, his face twisted in a motley combination of pain, terror, and hatred. A single tear streaked down his cheek.

This earned him a vicious backhand to his jaw. A trickle of blood leaked from his split lip.

"All in good time Will." Hannibal smirked. He dipped his head forward and ran his soft, pointed tongue from Will's jaw up to his lip, snatching the trail of blood from Will's soft skin.

Will screwed his face up in distaste, trying once more to turn his face away, but the hand twisted in his hair snaked back to his jaw, turning his face back to Hannibal's.

Without hesitation, Hannibal lunged forward, crushing his lips against Will's. His tongue forced it's way into the smaller man's mouth, exploring every inch of the warm, wet space.

His tongue tasted like blood.

Will could no longer stop himself, the tears he had been biting back came forth, silently spilling over his cheeks and running down his neck, mixing with the combination of his and Hannibal's blood that streaked his face.

In response to this Hannibal simply kissed him harder, his fingers knotting so tightly to Will's scalp that he felt some strands of hair tear free. Hannibal withdrew the pressure of his arm from Will's chest, and began instead running it all over his body. He pressed his fingers to the bruises on Will's neck that he had made just a few short hours ago, then trailed his hand down Will's chest, stopping to roughly caress his nipple through Will's thin shirt, using the pad of his thumb.

Will choked back his sobs as Hannibal moved down to bite and suck at Will's neck.

"You're exquisite..." Hannibal breathed against his ear, sending shudders down Will's spine.

He sucked the soft lobe into his mouth, pulling at it gently with his tongue, before nipping, hard. Will cried out in pain as a small pool of fresh blood blossomed in Hannibal's mouth. He let out a low sigh off pleasure as he rose from kneeling in front of Will to stand before him.

Relief rushed over Will as Hannibal moved away, wrongly believing his ordeal was over with for now. He shut his tear stained eyes and tilted his head back, breathing shallowly.

The sound of a zipper being undone made his heart stop still in his chest.

Will opened his eyes in time to see Hannibal's trousers falling to the floor and pooling around his ankles, followed quickly by his boxers.

He went rigid with panic as he watched Hannibal kick the discarded garments away to a far corner of the room.

Try as he might , Will couldn't help but stare at the psychopath's thick, hard cock, the slit already wet with pre-cum.

Hannibal levelled cold, yet excited eyes on Will.

"You're going to take this in your mouth, and you're going to make it good." Hannibal explained, his voice icy with expectancy. "And if you dare bite me, I'll cut yours off and feed it to your fucking dogs."

He had lost all of his strangely warm demeanour that had possessed him when he entered Will's prison, stripping away the layers of false compassion to bare the ugly truth of his nature.

In two short strides he was directly in front of Will. He didn't even give him the option of choosing to take him, he shoved his hips forward, forcing the tip of his lengthy member between Will's lips and thrusting in all the way to the back of his throat.

The salty taste of pre-cum flooded Will's mouth as he gagged, trying to accommodate Hannibal's impatient cock in his inexperienced mouth. Tears drenched his pale cheeks.

Hannibal pulled out, and before giving Will even a moment to catch his breath, shoved brutally back in. His fingers twisted relentlessly into Will's hair, knuckles grinding into his scalp. He forced Will's head back by his hair, gaining him a better angle to thrust even further down his tortured throat.

Will was sobbing silently, his shoulders heaving, and his whole body shaking uncontrollably. Hannibal, however, was too far gone to either notice or care about Will's lack of input. This wasn't a blow job, Hannibal was simply fucking Will's mouth.

What started as soft moans of satisfaction had now mounted to guttural grunts and long, choked out moans, forced between teeth gritted with pleasure.

The thrusts of Hannibal's hips grew in pace. They became rougher and erratic, a series of violent, disjointed jerks, each one slamming the back of Will's head unapologetically against the stone wall, as his tormentor's orgasm mounted.

With one final thrust, pushing himself deep down inside Will's throat, causing the traumatised man to convulse around him, Hannibal came. His hot seed flooding out, shooting down Will's throat and burning his insides with pain and humiliation on it's journey to his stomach.

Hannibal staggered away, overwrought with satisfaction, leaving Will to crumple feebly to the floor. He landed half on, half off the mattress, his skull smacking against the floor, but Will was beyond caring. The pain in his head was better than the feeling of Hannibal's slick member sliding in and out of Will's violated mouth.

He pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging himself tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to zone out. Tried to retreat back into his mind where nothing could hurt him but his own dark thoughts, but he never could when he wanted to. All his senses were on fire, live wires that fizzed and cracked at the slightest stimulus. Will was painfully aware of his clothes against his skin. His ragged breath in his filthy throat. The realisation of what had just happened to him struck him like a jack hammer.

He rolled quickly onto his stomach, retching violently but bringing up nothing but thin, transparent bile.

He felt the familiar feeling of eyes on his back and turned his head to find Hannibal regarding him coolly. A fresh wave of sobs threatened to overwhelm him, but he choked them back, the tears spilling silently over his cheeks.

Hannibal remained silent. Showed no sign of emotion towards Will's tears.

Will dragged himself back onto the mattress, curling back into himself. He pressed one cheek against the filthy surface and let his tears flow freely, his whole body shaking with distress.

He felt Hannibal nearing him, and flinched violently when he felt an almost tender hand gently touch his side, as if to comfort him. He shied away, silently begging to be left alone.

The hand withdrew immediately at his obvious agitation.

His heart pounded as he felt Hannibal lower his face to Will's, his breath hot in his ear. The psychopath planted a single kiss to Will's cheek before rising. Will heard him crossing to the doorway.

"Goodnight Will." Hannibal said, a smile in his voice.

He left, the door closing with a soft click. The last sound Will heard was the scrape of metal-on-metal, before he fell into the bliss of unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

Will was woken by the sensation of a tender hand running through the hair on the back of his head, gently petting his curls. He groaned slightly, his eyes fluttering open to reveal Hannibal's feet on level with his face. The lanky man was crouched next to the mattress near Will's head, one hand stroking him, the other clasping what looked like police issue handcuffs.

Without explanation, he reached out and pulled both Will's hands behind his back, and shackled them firmly together. Will was too weak and exhausted to even try and resist. A moment later he heard the clink of metal and realised that Hannibal had removed the heavy-duty padlock connecting the thick chain to Will's wrist.

He felt Hannibal's strong hands snaking into his underarms and gripping him tightly, and everything became a sudden blur of motion as he was pulled to his feet. Hannibal set him upright but did not let him go, waiting for Will to stop wavering unsteadily as a wave of dizziness rolled over him.

Finally Will stood independently, shaky but stable. Hannibal looked him up and down, and Will shuffled from one foot to another uncomfortably.

"I am going to take you upstairs, and you are going to eat, Will." Hannibal spoke these words as a statement. There was no question or offering in his tone.

Will glared at the floor. There was no way he was going to eat anything that was produced in this house. He'd sooner starve to death. And Hannibal was going to kill him eventually anyway. Why not check out before the psychopath inflicted any more of his sick desires on him.

His stomach twisted violently at the memory of what had happened last night. Well... he assumed it was last night. Hannibal was wearing a fresh suit and smelled of fine cologne, and faintly of soap.

"I'm not going to feed you chained up on the floor down here, like an animal. You are my guest, and you will join me in the dining room for meals."

Finally, Will raised his eyes to Hannibal's face. He didn't quite make eye contact, but instead fixed his stare on the taller man's chin.

"If I'm your guest, then surely I'm at liberty to leave when I want to."

The backhand to his cheek sent him reeling, stumbling backwards. Hannibal took one quick stride forward and grabbed Will by the front of his t-shirt, preventing him from falling. He leant in close.

"Do not forget who you are talking to." He hissed.

Will stared down, his back arched awkwardly with Hannibal leaning right into him, only remaining on his feet because of the hand twisted into the front of his shirt.

"S-s-sorry.." He mumbled.

Hannibal waited a brief moment, then pulled Will back upright. Glancing quickly up, he caught the smug smirk that was plastered across the taller man's cruel features.

He placed a firm hand on Will's shoulder, and propelled him ahead, gently pushing him forwards and up the stairs. Will blinked rapidly as they stepped into the large combined kitchen and dining room. The heavy drapes had been pulled back and the whole room was flooded with bright, natural light. Will hadn't realised how gloomy his concrete cell was.

Hannibal led him over to the grand, oak table and gently, but firmly pushed him down into a seat. It had a high back and arms, and matched the table he was sitting at. Hannibal began fumbling at Will's back and a second later he felt his right wrist become free from the constraints of the metal cuff. Hannibal attached the now empty side of the cuffs to the left arm of the chair, leaving Will with just one mobile arm, and unable to walk... or run.

Hannibal smiled down at the small, fearful man.

"I wouldn't try anything Will. You're an intelligent man, and you know as well as I do that it would prove to be unsuccessful."

Will remained silent. He stared down at his bare thighs and felt horribly exposed. A flush began to creep up his neck and he shifted uncomfortably, inexplicably ashamed of his ragged, dishevelled appearance, especially compared with Hannibal's fresh scent and spotless suit.

His grey shirt was stained with blood, most of it Hannibal's. His face and neck were heavily bruised, and his face was streaked with his own blood. His faded white boxers had greyed a little from spending a night on that filthy mattress. Will blinked back the tears of shame that threatened to spill.

While Will had been lost in his pained thoughts, Hannibal was busy preparing something in the kitchen. With an air of satisfaction he crossed the room and placed an elegant plate in front of Will. Next to it he put a fork, but no knife.

The plate contained two slices of rustic, home-made bread, a handful of fried button mushrooms, a large baked tomato that had been cut into a delicate rose shape, and two rashers of bacon. Will's stomach dropped as he looked at the bacon. It didn't quite look normal. It was slightly the wrong colour, and didn't look quite lean enough. He didn't have to think hard to know why.

Will swallowed back his retch, his shoulders heaving.

Hannibal took a seat across from him. His plate contained exactly the same as Will, the only difference was the thin, viciously sharp knife that lay to the right of his place setting.

"Bon appetit" Hannibal smiled.

He immediately tucked into his meal, chewing slowly and thoughtfully, enjoying every mouthful. Will, on the other hand, did not move. He was pitifully skinny, his stomach hollowed out and perpetually empty. But Will would not eat, _could not _eat this.

After about five minutes, Hannibal stopped eating. He looked at Will for a while, then placed his cutlery down on the table.

"You are not eating, Will." His voice was low and expressionless. "Is my food not to your taste?"

Will stared at his knees and didn't respond. He didn't know what answer he could possibly give that wouldn't anger the cruel psychopath.

"_William_." Hannibal's voice had taken on a hard edge, the promise of violence lacing each syllable.

"I... I'm not hungry." Will mumbled.

"We both know that's a lie."

There was a brief moment of silence, before Will's heart was wrenched into his throat at the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor. Will kept his eyes down, his panic mounting. A shadow fell across him, and with a quick glance to the right he saw Hannibal towering over him.

He leant down so that their faces were on level with each other.

"You will eat, or next time you will be _on _the plate. Not eating off of it."

"I don't care." It was barely a whisper, but Hannibal heard him easily in the cold silence of the room.

Hannibal paused for a moment, then leant back, drawing himself up to his full height.

"I see." Another pause. "You want to die." It was a statement, not a question.

"I want to not be your _plaything._" Will spat. "It's not that I want to die. I just don't want to be stuck here with you."

There was a silence that seemed to drag on for an age. Will's heart was pounding in his chest.

"Am I not _good enough_ for you, William_?" _Hannibal hissed in a voice laced with venom. "_You think you're too good for me?_"

Will's breathing had become quick and shallow.

"..No.. I-I just... You.. _You're a Cannibal! _You're a _murderer_... A _serial killer! _You... you kidnapped me and _raped me! WHY THE HELL WOULD I _WANT _TO BE WITH YOU?!_"

Will practically screamed the last words, pale and trembling, but full of murderous rage. He struggled furiously against his restraint, only causing more damage to himself, but far beyond caring.

Hannibal's previous dangerously still stance was shattered as he lunged forward. He grabbed the back of Will's heavy chair and dragged it backwards, carrying Will with it. Furiously, he struck Will across the face with a clenched fist, did it again, and again.

Hannibal swung his leg over Will, who was struggling to stand, desperately trying to break free of the handcuffs. He wrapped a strong hand around Will's throat, his hand mirroring the dark bruises from the previous day, and slammed his head back against the chair.

"Oh Will, so fierce, so determined." Hannibal breathed. He leant in to whisper against Will's ear. "Don't you realise... it just makes me want you more."

Will made a strangled noise at the back of his throat, struggling furiously.

"Hush Will... hush." Hannibal petted his curls with that hand that wasn't clamped around the younger man's throat.

To Will's shock, Hannibal then reached down and unlocked Will's cuff. The instant he was free Will began to writhe and kick with renewed strength, and in response Hannibal punched him viciously on the bridge of his nose. Blood spurted from Will's nose, and he went limp, eyes squeezed shut in pain and shock.

He felt himself being pulled to his feet, his legs buckling beneath him. A moment later there was an arm hooked under each of his and he was being dragged backwards along the floor. He willed himself to resist, to fight back. He was unrestrained, out in the open. He could get away. But his body wouldn't work. He was stunned, in a state of numb shock as blood continued to pump from his nose, saturating his grey shirt with ugly red-brown stains.

Will's feeling started to return to him as he was dragged over the threshold of a door, into a room that smelt horribly strongly of Hannibal. By the time he was thrown roughly down onto a large double bed, movement was starting to return to Will's numb limbs.

Hannibal threw him down and immediately began undoing his tie, then unbuttoning his shirt. Will groaned, tried – and failed to sit up. On shaky arms, he managed to roll himself onto his side. He pulled himself closer to the edge of the bed, his whole body trembling.

With a final heave he managed to sit up, and immediately powerful hands shoved him back down onto the mattress.

"Going somewhere?" The now shirtless Hannibal smirked sadistically. He straddled Will, pinning his bucking hips to the bed with his own weight, his hands gripping Will's wrists.

In under a minute Hannibal had firmly secured the struggling man's wrists with lengths of thin rope stretching from each bed post. Still, he writhed furiously, twisting his head to the side, kicking desperately, _trying_ to throw Hannibal's sickening weight from his hips.

Hannibal elected to ignore Will's thrashing. He grabbed Will's face with both his hands, and leant into him, once more crushing their lips roughly together. He bit hungrily at Will's lower lip, forcing his tongue impatiently into his mouth.

He moved down Will's neck, sucking hard to leave a fresh bruise where his neck met his shoulder. Abruptly, he pulled away and leant over the side of the bed and opened a draw in his bedside table. Will's breath hitched in his throat as he saw the glint of wicked metal. Hannibal's hand was now gripping a thin, cruel blade with a beautifully carved handle.

He glanced down at Will, who was shaking so hard the whole bed was trembling slightly. He showed him the knife.

"The handle is carved from bone... I won't tell you whose." He murmured, a savage glint in his eyes.

Without hesitation he swooped it down to Will's chest. Will squeezed his eyes shut in panic, pressing the side of his face to the silky sheets.

"No!" He choked out, waiting for the red-hot burn of the blade on his skin, the sickening sensation of warm blood spilling over his body.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Hannibal was smirking down at him, cruel pleasure written all over his features. Looking down, Will saw that his shirt was cut neatly in half down the front. Hannibal proceed to cut the rest of it away from Will, leaving him naked but for his grubby boxer shorts.

He ran his hands slowly across Will's hollowed stomach, moved them down to the jut of his hip bones... caressed them for a moment, then stroked up his sides, his hands moving jerkily over the ripple of Will's prominent ribs.

He leant into Will, kissing the hollow of his throat, moving down his body, leaving a trail of kisses all the way to his happy trail. Using his thumb and forefinger he began pinching at Will's right nipple, tugging just a little too hard for it to be pleasurable.

Will made a strangled noise of anxiety as Hannibal slid his rough hands back down Will's body and hooked both his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. A slight hiss of appreciation escaped the older man's lips as he slipped Will's boxers off of his sharp hips. He pulled them all the way off, then threw away to join the pile of Will's clothing on the floor.

Tears sprang to Will's eyes. He pressed his face into the pillow, consumed by vulnerability. He was shaking uncontrollably, sick with fear at the certain knowledge of what was about to happen to him.

He felt warm breath against his groin, and had to bite his lip not to cry out in horror at the sensation of Hannibal's wet tongue running up the shaft of his flaccid cock. His tongue withdrew and was replaced by a large hand, and he began gently stroking up and down Will's length.

To Will's horror he felt his dick begin to grow hard under Hannibal's touch. The tears started flowing freely down his cheeks from abject humiliation. Hannibal smirked.

He gripped Will behind his knees and roughly pulled the younger man's legs up so that they were bent and splayed, exposing his puckered hole. Will immediately scrambled to close his legs, trying desperately to preserve a small scrap of dignity, but this was met instantly with a hard punch to the jaw.

However, this was ineffective at stopping Will's panicked struggles. Instinct had kicked in and all he could feel was white hot fear burning it's way through his body. He twisted and yanked viciously at his handcuffs until blood was smeared all around his wrists, a few delicate drops running down his straining forearms.

Hannibal tried punching at him once more, then sighed. He reached across to the bedside table, his wide hand fumbling until his fingers closed around the delicately carved handle of the knife. Leaning in, Hannibal fisted his hand roughly into Will's tangled hair, and gently pressed the blade to his throat.

Instantly, Will ceased his struggling, going deathly still.

Hannibal chuckled darkly, pressing his face into the hollow of Will's neck, just under the knife. He brought one hand down and once more spread Will's slender thighs. He gently caressed the smooth curve of Will's ass, then gripped it tightly, digging his fingers in hard enough to leave a bruise, making small half-moon shapes in the younger man's pale flesh with his nails.

Will remained completely still, painfully aware of the razor-sharp blade pressed firmly to his skin where his jaw met his neck. A small hiss passed his bloodied lips as Hannibal's nails dug viciously into his skin, but apart from that he remained silent.

Slowly, Hannibal slid his hand across Will's firm ass, and without hesitation pushed his broad thumb into Will.

Will cried out, the sensation of the older man's coarse, dry skin on his sensitive insides making fresh tears spring to his eyes.

Hannibal lent into Will's scream, pressing their lips together and swallowing the sounds of agony with a blissful smile. He pulled out, then immediately pushed back in, twisting his thumb slightly, Will's eyes squeezing together in anguish.

Once more Hannibal removed his thumb, replacing it instead with two fingers. He splayed them inside of Will, opening and closing his rough digits in a scissor-like motion. He pumped in and out a few times, stretching Will out until he was sure no life threatening damage would be caused.

He swung himself off of Will, the small man's sigh of relief turning to a strangled gasp as he heard the sound of Hannibal's zipper being undone. Quickly, Hannibal discarded his trousers and boxers, dumping them on the floor next to Will's clothing.

He once more straddled Will, a look of deep hunger and lust written all across his sharp features. The knife was at Will's throat again, and using his other hand, Hannibal stroked a gentle hand under his prisoners nose, across his chin and lips, covering his hand in blood.

Hannibal gripped his throbbing dick, slowly running his hand up and down it's length a few times, adding slight lubricant.

Will bit his lip as he felt the wet tip of Hannibal's cock lining up with his entrance. One hand was gripping the smaller man's hip, the other still holding the cruel blade to Will's throat.

Slowly, Hannibal pushed his swollen dick into Will, the blood doing very little to ease his entrance.

Will threw his head back and screamed. He felt his insides tearing at the unrelenting force of Hannibal's length.

Hannibal, on the other hand, moaned in pleasure.

"_Oh Will.._" he gasped. "You're so _tight_. I thought a man so needy as yourself would have had a steady stream of lovers." He gasped through gritted teeth.

Will sobbed unrestrainedly and offered no reply. Hannibal pulled out to the tip, then roughly thrust back in. It seared Will's insides like acid, making him scream once more, but his abuser slid in much easier the second time, the fresh blood leaking out of his entrance lending extra lubrication.

Hannibal had dropped the knife, both his hands now holding Will's hips in a crushing grip, pinning him to the bed. Will looked desperately at the blade discarded a few inches away from him face. He longed to grab it and plunge it into the man who was now pounding steadily into him. Will's bloody hands twitched with longing, tears running down his face, wanting more than anything for his ordeal to be over.

A hand fisted into his hair once again and his head was forced back to expose his neck. Whilst continuing to thrust in and out of Will, Hannibal began kissing and biting at the younger man's throat. Will's constant moans of pain and anxiety escalated to a gut wrenching scream as Hannibal viciously sunk his teeth into the meat of Will's neck, just above his shoulder. Blood welled in his mouth and he held it there, moving up to kiss the man beneath him, passionately forcing his tongue between his lips.

Will choked and gagged at the combined taste of Hannibal's tongue and his own blood filling his mouth. His whole body was taught, every inch of him alight with agony.

Hannibal's feral grunts and moans began to grow louder, the jerks of his hips becoming erratic and increasingly brutal.

Will was silent as Hannibal came inside him, the hot seed filling his insides and burning the torn flesh inside him.

A vile mixture of cum and blood trickled out of Will as his tormentor pulled out and collapsed on top of his chest, causing him to grunt slightly from the impact. Hannibal's face was right by Will's tear streaked cheek, and he turned away as best as he could, allowing the tears to continue to leak freely onto the sheets.

They stayed this way for a long time, Hannibal gently petting Will's sweat dampened curls, Will softly sobbing into the blood-soiled sheets.

Eventually Will drifted into a restless state, somewhere between sleep and unconsciousness. Hannibal gazed at him for a while, then gently untied the bonds from Will's bloodied, raw wrists. He scooped up the naked, still bleeding man into his arms, cradling him like a newborn child, and carried him down the stone stairs to Will's cell.

He deposited him on the filthy mattress, reattaching the thick chain to the metal cuff that was still firmly in place around Will's wrist.

For a moment he frowned, remembering that Will had still not had any food pass his lips for countless days, but he quickly banished the thought from his mind. That was a problem that could be dealt with another time.

He looked down at Will's naked, blood streaked form, and smiled. He bent down a pressed a single, gentle kiss to Will's sweaty forehead, before leaving him, alone and unconsciousness in the cold, dark cell.

He quietly returned to the main house to clean up himself and his bedroom, basking in the inexplicable joy of finally having Will how had he dreamed of ever since they had first met.

And it couldn't have been sweeter.


	4. Chapter 4

Will Graham came to, once again sprawled out on the filthy mattress, locked up back in his stone prison. He groaned and sat up, relieved to at least be waking up alone.

His entire body ached. Will's face was a swollen mess of cuts, blood and bruises, as were his neck, ribs, wrist, and other... more delicate areas.

He glanced around edgily, scanning the corners of the room to make sure Hannibal wasn't lurking in the shadows. _I'm starting to make a habit of this..._ He thought bitterly. A shiver ran through his body, and he pulled his knees up to his bare chest, hugging his naked skin against the chill of the room.

Time dragged on, and Will remained lost in his own thoughts. He refused to think of what had happened... yesterday morning? Earlier today? He shook the thoughts off. It didn't matter now, time was irrelevant in this place.

Will had no idea how long he sat there. It could have been a few hours, maybe longer. However, the now familiar sound of a heavy door opening somewhere close by sent ice-cold stabs of panic through his gut. He pulled his knees closer, pushing his small form back into the far corner, trying desperately to cover himself up.

The sound of the door to his cell opening, quickly followed by soft footsteps, told him that Hannibal had entered, but still he refused to look up. He stared fixedly at a particularly grim stain in front of his toes, chewing anxiously at his swollen lip.

"Hello Will." Hannibal spoke so sickeningly calmly, as if they were just two old friends having a chat over coffee.

Will remained silent, drawing his knees closer and digging his toes uncomfortably into the mattress. He could hardly bear to be near to Hannibal, but the thought of looking at him, or talking to him, made his blood run cold.

"I have made you some dinner. You are going to eat it this time, or I will force feed you. I do not think you would find that experience preferable to eating." He once again stated these words with a calm, cold indifference, his words sending shivers of fear up Will's spine.

"I trust that you will be better behaved. We don't want a repeat of this morning, do we?" Will buried his face in his folded arms, his face burning bright red with shame and hurt, tears welling in his haunted eyes.

"_Do we?_" That all too familiar hard edge had returned to the psychopath's voice, and Will shook his head fervently.

"Good." Will flinched away violently when Hannibal's hand closed around his wrist, his fingers working to undo the padlock chaining him to the wall. He heard Hannibal sigh, but he continued without interruption.

Will waited expectantly after he was released, waiting for the cool bite of handcuffs around his bloody wrists.

"I brought you some clothing, Will. You are not going to dine with me naked." Finally Will looked up, glancing up with almost hopeful eyes. Hannibal was holding a small, folded pile of clothes, including a pair of jeans, some grey boxers and socks, a red and grey plaid shirt and some scuffed old shoes.

His heart faltered a little as he looked at the clothing, confusion clouding his handsome face.

"You... you went to my house?" The clothes were all unmistakably his own. Will felt ill at the thought of Hannibal being inside his own home.

"Yes. It's a lovely little place, I visit often." Will stared at Hannibal blankly, mouth hanging upon slightly in confusion and dawning realisation.

"You... visit?"

"Yes."

"..._When_?"

Hannibal smiled darkly. "Whenever I feel like it. You must have terrible nightmares, Will. All that tossing and turning. Sometimes you even _scream_."

Will stared in horror, his mind reeling, unable to form a sentence.

"How... how do you...?" He trailed off uncertainly.

"How do I get in, are you trying to say?" Hannibal smirked, "With the key I had cut."

Will's mind was racing, his stomach twisting with the idea that this psychopath had been in his house, exploring freely through his possessions, and _watching him while he slept._

"My fishing lures..."

Hannibal nodded, wearing a cruel smile.

Suddenly, Will was filled with a fierce, burning anger, an intense hatred that boiled like acid in his mind. He wanted to shout, to scream. Call the sick bastard every filthy word under the sun. He wanted to launch at Hannibal and beat him into the filthy floor for everything he had done to him.

But he didn't. Will bit his tongue, clenched his fists, his whole body trembling. He knew now, that above all else, he had to finish what he came here for. He'd given up, lost in panic and self pity, loosing hope at a startling rate.

That had now changed.

He gritted his teeth and stood up painfully, crossing his skinny arms over his bare chest. Without making eye contact he quietly accepted the clothes from Hannibal, and dressed quickly, wincing regularly as the movement caused sharp spikes of agony to radiate through his body.

When he was done, Hannibal promptly cuffed him again, oblivious to the pain it caused to Will's raw wrists. Will was once more propelled up the stairs, walking stiffly and awkwardly, every step reminding him of his torn insides. They got to the kitchen and Will was made to sit, the cuff fastened in the same manner as it had been earlier that morning.

Once the food was placed in front of Will he obediently picked up his fork. He eyed the food dubiously. It was some sort of stew or soup, full of chunks of strange fruits or vegetables, but also with pieces of meat strewn through it.

Hannibal began eating without a word, but he fixed Will with a pointed stare, his eyes full of the threat of certain violence if he failed to comply.

Slowly, Will speared a piece of what looked kind of like potato, but not quite the same, onto his fork. He shut his eyes and quickly pushed it into his mouth, before he had too much time to mull it over.

It tasted amazing, as he had expected. Maybe he could do this... if he just _tried_ to forget what the key ingredient really was, Hannibal may trust him a little more for his act of submission. At the very least he would avoid having to suffer Hannibal's cruel punishment, or being force fed. He shuddered at the thought.

Will ate quickly, chewing as little as possible, avoiding tasting the food as far as he could. When he was done he laid his fork down next to his plate, peering up at Hannibal through his increasingly shaggy hair. He hesitated, then looked up at his face.

"Thank you. That was... very nice."

Hannibal smiled. It was not a cruel smile, but held a hint of something unpleasant. Possessiveness, perhaps? Or perhaps just dark pride at finally forcing Will to comply with him.

"You're welcome, Will."

They sat in silence for a while, before finally Hannibal pushed his chair out and stood. Will chewed his lip nervously, eyeing Hannibal's knife on the far side of the table. It was well out of reach, but if he could just get to it...

Hannibal approached and began fiddling with the cuffs. Will could feel his heart pounding in his temples, the hatred still burning through his whole body. With Hannibal focusing solely on the intricate lock of the cuff, Will reached a deft, nimble hand out to the table. His fingers closed carefully around the handle of the fork.

He glanced quickly at the man crouched over him. He hadn't noticed! Will's grip on the fork tightened, his knuckles going white against the polished sheen of the metal.

Finally, he felt his arm fall to his lap as it became detached from the arm of the chair.

And Will struck.

He lunged forward, plunging the fork into the meat of Hannibal's thigh. He yelled out, stumbling backwards.

Will used this time to stagger away, still horribly conscious of his previous injuries. He went to lurch round the side of the table, but before he could get three steps Hannibal was on him.

He had wrenched the fork from his flesh, leaving behind four evenly spaced puncture wounds, sluggishly leaving blood that stained Hannibal's trousers.

Will collided with the table as he was tackled from behind and thrown against it. Hannibal pinned him there, the younger man folded across the table at the waist, twisting his fingers viciously into his hair and forcing his cheek down against the surface. He was leaning across Will with his full weight, trapping him against the oak.

Hannibal wrenched Will's head back and slammed it down against the table. Will cried out in pain and struggled feebly against the stronger man's weight, but it was no use.

His head was raised once more, then slammed down even harder.

The whole time Hannibal was snarling at him. "Y_ou little bastard. You fucker. I'm gonna fuck you up so bad you whore_."

Will managed to get his hand up onto the table and reached out desperately. He stretched, and his finger tips touched the smooth handle of Hannibal's gleaming knife.

He tugged it closer, and his fingers closing firmly around it. Hannibal, so caught up in fury, didn't even notice as he wrenched Will's battered head up a third time. He went to send it crashing to the table top, and Will whipped his arm up and around, aiming for his attacker's own arm and praying that it would meet it's mark.

The sound of Hannibal's scream was music to Will's ears, as he felt the knife connect solidly and plunge deep into his thick forearm. His hand sprang open, and Will just managed to stop his face colliding with the table broken-nose first.

He wriggled sideways, succeeding in slipping out from Hannibal's grasp.

Hannibal swore vilely, lunging towards Will, swinging his uninjured arm in blind rage. Will dodged sideways, but Hannibal swung back round with surprising speed. He caught Will with a vicious right hook to the jaw and he dropped like a stone.

Will tried desperately to crawl away, but was flipped over onto his back with a solid kick to his ribs. He screamed as he heard, and mostly _felt_ at least two of his ribs bend and break under the blow.

Will lay flat on his back, seeing nothing but white from the burning agony scorching through his side. Hannibal dropped on top of him, straddling him and pinning his arms above his head, keeping the knife well away.

He leant down and hissed in Will's ear, his words laced with venom. "You're going to suffer for this Will Graham. I have so many ways to make you _scream_."

Will whimpered, his sight and a little of his strength returning to him. His hand twitched, desperate to bury the blade deep into the psychopath's heart.

Hannibal stared into Will's face, his bruise rimmed eyes mere inches from Will's own, breathing heavily and grinning with a demonic ecstasy at the thought of inflicting pain on the young man beneath him.

Will looked into Hannibal's eyes, ignoring the panic that flooded through his mind and body, and held his gaze. He stared his abuser in the face for five whole seconds, before he viciously whipped his forehead forward to connect with Hannibal's already injured nose.

He screamed and sat up abruptly, both hands clutching his once more profusely bleeding face.

Without hesitation Will sat up and lunged forward, burying the blade deep in the flesh of Hannibal's stomach.

He stopped still, both hands dropping to cradle his abdomen. His eyes widened... staring at Will in confusion.

A small, sad, choked off noise escaped his throat. He coughed abruptly, a spray of blood accompanying the spasm. A trickle of blood escaped from his open mouth and trickled down his chin.

Will watched silently as Hannibal wavered, then toppled sideways, landing heavily on his back, then lying still. A small pool of blood began to form on either side of him.

Will lay in stunned silence for several minutes, breathing heavily and staring at his abuser's lifeless corpse out of the corner of his eye. A smooth veil of serene numbness spread over his mind, his thought processes slowing down to a sluggish blur.

When Will's mind finally caught up with him, he struggled to his feet, breathing heavily from a combination of shock and the agony of his broken ribs.

He knew what he now had to do. He stumbled out into the hallway, going straight for the phone. He dialled _nine-one-one _and asked for police, giving them Hannibal's address. He told them that the inhabitant of the house was dead, but when they started asking questions and making demands to know his name, what had happened, what he was doing there, he quickly hung up.

Without stopping to look back, Will stumbled to the doorway. He broke out into the freezing night air and paused on the balcony, breathing heavily. He realised suddenly that he was crying. His face was streaked with tears, the salty drops mixing with his blood on their smooth path down his cheeks.

With a last look around, Will turned towards the woods behind Hannibal's house, and grimacing through the agony it caused him, he ran.

He ran, and he ran, and he didn't stop running.

But try as he might, Will Graham could never run far, or fast enough, to escape the torments he had suffered at the hands of Hannibal Lecter.

They would stay with him forever.


End file.
